


The Right State of Mind

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-15
Updated: 2006-01-15
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Justin really needs a more regular sleep schedule.  And, just sometimes, Brian needs to not be so... Brian.





	The Right State of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: I don't really write, just lurk. Not betaed, because I don't really write and don't have one. I don't know why I wrote this, and I have no idea if it is any good at all. Soo... tell me whether or not it is a piece of shit.  


* * *

There was someone pounding out a rhythm on the door of his apartment. 

 

_Bang Bang, BaBang Bang…Bang Bang._

 

Justin nuzzled his face into the mattress and squirmed further into the warmth of his bed.

 

‘This person is obviously way too enthusiastic and happy for me to deal with at this time of afternoon,’ he thought as he squinted around the alcove that served as his bedroom. Or, really, the little pseudo-room where he decided to put his mattress. Light from the window in his living room slanted through the closed blinds as he looked towards the door through his lashes. ‘So it would be in both of our best interests if I just ignore them. That way I won’t bring them down. I’m being altruistic.’ 

 

He was mildly proud of himself for being able to justify not getting out of bed.

 

_Bang Bang, BaBang Bang…Bang Bang._

 

The door shook as it was pounded on, and Justin wondered if he imagined the dust cloud he saw, or if his ceiling was going to actually fall down. He really hoped the ceiling wasn’t actually going to fall down, because that might be a hassle. He would have to deal with the fucking super. He hated the fucking super. The fucking super was an asshole. And then there would be workmen, which might not be bad if they were hot. Really, if they were hot, Justin didn’t think he would mind the ceiling falling down. Eye candy. His eyes flickered to the ceiling. It looked mostly attached. 

 

_Bang Bang, BaBang Bang…Bang Bang._

 

The door rattled again. No. That was definitely ceiling dust coming down. He smiled as a little bit of what he guessed would be considered glee came over him when he thought about the hot construction workers that were about to come his way. Until he frowned into his pillow. If the construction workers weren’t hot, then it would be a hassle. And ceiling dust could not be good for wet paint. His eyes flickered over to the wet canvas that was propped up in the living room. He considered this as his door rattled again and he stared hard at what was becoming an obvious cloud of plaster dust. He rolled out of bed, feeling blindly for the sweatpants he threw on the floor last night. Or this morning. Whatever. He pulled them on as he stumbled towards the door, grimacing as he realized that they were inside out and that that was wet paint on his leg. He pulled the door open and stared vacantly at the person who had been pounding on the door. It was Brian.

 

“Hey baby”

 

It was Brian, and apparently he was on drugs. Justin considered this. He figured that this might happen one day. Brian would take a combination of something that would totally trip him out and he would accidentally wind-up in New York. And, inevitably, he would blame Justin. Still not saying anything, but sighing a little, Justin moved aside and gestured a giddy Brian into his apartment. He eyed him suspiciously and shut the door behind him. Then he looked up at the ceiling. It was definitely going to fall down.

 

Brian was examining the apartment. 

 

“It is quaint. I like it!”

 

Justin furrowed his brow and looked at Brian, then glanced over the apparently quaint apartment. It had one room. With two alcoves, one of which was his kitchen, and the other had a mattress. That was on the floor. The shower was in the kitchen, and he had like, in total, 5 pieces of furniture. Including the bed. There was nothing quaint about his apartment. His apartment was a piece of shit. He stared hard at Brian, who was grinning at him with shining eyes. He definitely was not in the right state of mind to deal with this. 

 

“Does Michael know you are in New York?” Justin asked suspiciously, scowling at the man across from him, who was enthusiastically opening the blinds.

 

Brian looked back at Justin, puzzled for a moment as he thought about it. “No. I don’t think I told him, babe.”

 

_Babe_. Maybe he wasn’t on drugs. Maybe it wasn’t Brian. Maybe it was a pod person. _His_ Brian would never use the word babe. Ever. Justin wondered how safe it was to have a pod-Brian in his apartment. He really needed to go back to sleep. 

 

“Are you really Brian? Like, my Brian?”

 

Hazel eyes flitted around uncertainly. His Brian was never uncertain. Justin grew more suspicious. The NYPD had to have dealt with pod people in the past. It was New York, for Christ’s sake. Justin wondered how to convince them that it really was pod-Brian. They had to have a test or something. 

 

“Yes?”

 

Justin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Is that a question?” 

 

“No?”

 

“Look, just tell me whether you are a pod-Brian or if you are on drugs, so I can decide whether it is safe enough to go back to sleep!”

 

“Neither?” 

 

Poor Brian was looking less confused, and much more concerned.

 

“Are you ok, Sunshine? Are you sick? Do you need anything?”

 

Justin stared suspiciously at what was becoming more and more apparent to him to be a pod-Brian. He wondered if it was safe to go back to sleep and just deal with this afterwards. Would a pod-Brian try to kill him in his sleep? He pursed his lips in consideration, eyes still narrowed at Brian. ‘Well,’ he thought, ‘if pod-Brian is going to kill me, I think I would prefer for him to do it while I was asleep.’

 

“I am going back to bed,” Justin announced. “Just… stay over there and… do whatever aliens do.” 

 

“Aliens? Are you sure you don’t need anything, babe?”

 

Ugh. The aliens really didn’t even try that hard to imitate him, did they? 

 

Justin half-heartedly smiled at pod-Brian. “Night… And I don’t really want to die, but if I have to, try not to wake me when you do it… k?”

 

“OK?”

 

Unceremoniously, Justin shucked his pants and clumsily wiped at the stripe of paint running down his thigh before giving up and crawling back into bed. With one more suspicious stare directed towards the alien that was looking lost in the middle of his apartment, Justin buried himself back into his nest of pillows and blankets and drifted back off to sleep.

 

*****

 

Sometime later he awoke to the smell of something burning. He sat upright glancing around and noticed that his stove was smoking. He blinked his eyes a few times to remember what he had been trying to cook, and came up with a muddled memory of the ceiling trying to cave-in and an alien taking over Brian. He stumbled out of bed towards the smoking mess that was his stove. Peering suspiciously around the dim apartment he noticed a prone figure on his couch. ‘Aha! Pod-Brian wasn’t a dream.’ He smirked triumphantly until he realized that this meant he actually had to deal with the situation. 

 

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath while he waved smoke out of his eyes and turned off the stove. He peered into the smoking pot, and then around the counter that was considered the kitchen. An open can of soup. Chicken noodle. 

 

“Hmmph,” he snorted as he went to open the living room window, bypassing the figure sprawled out on his couch. That done, he turned to examine Brian. Brian was stretched out on his back, one foot flat on the floor and the other tossed over the back of the couch. His faced was pressed into the back cushions with one arm throw over the armrest. 

 

Justin poked him. He didn’t move. So he poked him again. Harder this time. 

 

Brian opened his mouth a little. “Naaauh.” 

 

‘Well, that wasn’t an attractive sound,’ Justin thought, ‘but at least he isn’t dead.’ He poked him again, but jumped back, startled, as Brian turned onto his side, curling up into an awkward fetal position, and started to snore lightly. ‘That definitely isn’t an attractive sound.’

 

Justin stared at Brian while he decided that he still was not in the right state of mind to deal with this, and that maybe if he went back to sleep, the situation would fix itself. He really needed a more regular sleep schedule. He mulled over this as he tripped into his mattress and settled in to sleep away his problem.

 

*****

 

Later that night he awoke to a heavy weight settling on his back and the dim ringing of a cell phone. One that was getting louder as his blankets were being pulled down and the phone was being thrust at him. He glanced up at Brian while he answered the phone, before closing his eyes and relaxing back into the bed. 

“Yep?”

“Justin, its Lindsay. Have you heard from Brian? 'Cause he is missing… he missed work today and didn’t call-in and then Cynthia called Michael and then Michael called me. He isn’t answering his cell and we have looked everywhere and –“

Lindsay sounded borderline-hysterical, so Justin decided to make her feel better. “He is on top of me right now.”

“Oh. _OOOh!_ Ok. Bye!”

Justin put his cell down next to him.

“Your apartment is a piece of shit, Sunshine.”

Ah, that sounded like his Brian.

“You told me it was quaint earlier today.” 

“I did not.”

“And you called me babe. And baby. A couple of times.”

“I most definitely did not.”

“And I think you tried to make me chicken noodle soup, but passed out before it was heated-up properly and burned it. I had one pot Brian. _One._ And you ruined it. _And_ you made me think that you were an alien.”

“Are you on drugs? Because I most definitely did not do any of this. I would _never_.”

“Why are you here?” Justin was tired again.

“I… uh, well. I don’t know. Last time I checked I was at Babylon.”

The cell phone started to ring and Justin glanced at the display. Michael. He truly did not think that he had had enough sleep to deal with a hysterical Michael.

“It is for you, _babe_.” Justin pressed talk and shoved the phone at Brian’s face. 

He really needed a more regular sleep schedule.


End file.
